


All the ways we don't say it

by JLBRD



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-11 00:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12311007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLBRD/pseuds/JLBRD
Summary: Affection seems to evade these two. Lucky for them, they have many other options on a mating ritual of their choosing.





	All the ways we don't say it

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for the group chat - you're all my kind of crazy.

There have been some funny, many outrageous rumours around SHIELD. Most are fun because of how far-fetched the ideas are.

> “Me, a droid? Good one, newbies. I’m more indestructible than those fragile fuckers” Nick huffed one day.

But one that’s most definitely true is that the Black Widow and Deputy Director have a verbally abusive relationship that should really be an HR issue. Except that the paperwork will have to be done in 80 different languages and it’s just not worth it, payroll-wise. Not one person has the skillset necessary. Not five, not ten people. So they’ve been left to their own devices.

It all started when the rarely-in-the-field AD Hill was victimized and put under the influence of a very potent drug Dipenhydramine.

…also known as Benadryl. How was she supposed to know that she’d react badly to the air in the Netherlands? No, antihistamines aren’t nearly as bad as other 084s she’s been exposed to – the laughing gas was NOT as funny on her, but terrifying instead. Still, it’s certainly kicking her ass. In turn, she’s getting progressively meaner to rookies, which provides much needed relief from her irritation and reassures her that she’s still herself. Some level 2 agent had teased her about getting softer after seeing her _yawn (what’s a girl got to do to resist natural physical responses?)._ Later, she will proceed to do a thing that will not only ruin her solid hardass reputation, but also confirm that she, indeed, is soft as hell.

* * *

Natasha Romanoff came back from Shanghai worse for wear. She’s been on the brink of death way too many times for it to be a major concern, but today had been rough. She was almost hit by a cab after landing on top of it; it’s not her damn day, though it almost never is. She dreads Coulson’s mother hen tendencies that will welcome her without fail. She’ll grumble about not needing to tend to a couple broken ribs, a black eye, a long gash across her back from glass, but he’ll give her a desparate look that will make her sigh and give in. It’s their routine.

She’s not quite sure if she’s relieved that Hill is the first person she sees upon landing – she tells herself that she’d rather have the Commander’s quiet disapproval than Phil’s verbal one. The woman is distant at best, as was she, and so their relationship not one of companionship. Its foundation is mutual respect, admiration, and relative wariness. They have a seamless partnership during missions, healthy competition in the sparring ring, and marksmanship courses, but not much else anywhere. They would never admit to wishing for more, but the feeling is there.

And so given their history, or lack thereof, no one is more shocked than Natasha when Maria swiftly grabs her by the jaw as a form of greeting. She normally would have to tamp down the instinct to twist her superior’s arm, but that’s easy when she’s too stunned to do anything.

Maria inspects every cut closely, then kisses each one oh so tenderly, completely in contrast to how she’s holding Natasha’s marred face and hip firmly, almost possessively. A small crowd has gathered around them, murmuring about what should be a private moment. She won’t miss the ‘WHAT THE HELL?’ yelled out since that’s exactly what’s on the tip of her tongue.

An amused snort breaks her out of her musings. Despite her eyes growing slightly dazed from medication, Maria seems satisfied with her examination and decides, “your face has seen better days, Romanoff,” tapping it lightly.

Indignant, Natasha slaps away the hand rubbing patterns on her face. “Yeah?! << _Your_ face is stupid, Hill. >>” She stalks away, not thinking about gentle touches, warm lips.

Maria blinks. _What just happened? Her face is stupid?_ This is what she gets after allergy medicine makes her more honest than usual. _Man, the room is too tilt-y for any complications right now._ She heads in the general direction of her room to crash on the couch. She deserves this.

* * *

Since that incident, they’ve really committed to the unspoken challenge. Both never seemed to miss the opportunity to bad mouth each other for the smallest things. Creatively.

Maria’s first attack was setup so that whenever the spy arrives to get checked out at the medbay, there is a special announcement on the PA system. The messages come in some variation of YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT in the language of whichever country they were flying over. Chinese was heard for a while around the aircraft.

It only serves to add to Natasha’s natural aversion to that side of the helicarrier.

Natasha retaliated with a giant banner hanging from one of her many quinjets, much like a blimp. It read ‘YOU SUCK, HILL!’ in Polish.

(She was going to go for sky writing, but she’s already used up SHIELD’s allotted allowance for her and the troubles she causes.)

Maria, naturally, had more tricks up her sleeve. Since she spends most of her days in the command centre, she took advantage of that and accessed Romanoff’s screens in her quarters, her jets. In German, she wrote ‘KISS MY ASS.’

The choice is perfect because it’s stern while still edging into inappropriate.

Natasha’s comeback was hacking into JARVIS who, out of his volition, says GET LOST whenever Hill was in the tower. Whether it be in Dutch, Danish, Hebrew, Turkish, Greek, Japanese, even Esperanto, you name it and it’s available. Maria gets why she’s being chased out and would just roll her eyes and exit as quickly as possible after meeting up with Pepper or some other business she attends to. Pesky, evil assassin.

* * *

The childish, but brutal exchange went on for months. Fury has deemed the situation too ridiculous to intervene with from the beginning and let them blow off steam or whatever sexual frustration they have even if it kills some of his best assets.

“Can they just, please, for the love of god, fuck already?” groans Skye into her coffee.

“Maybe this is a drawn out foreplay. They'll get there eventually,” Jemma concludes.

“Any bets on how this ends? Death or marriage?” May offers.

“Nothing in between?” Coulson interjects.

“Shagging is unavoidable with that passion and impeccable chemistry,” Jemma nods.

“Uh-huh, they’ll bone one of these days. Maybe next week, so I’ll take you up on that marriage bet,” Skye shrugs distractedly, observing closely. Not creeping. Not at all.

* * *

Turns out, they weren’t too far off with the suggestion of marriage. Suppressed feelings came out after a night of drinking.

“You’re the best woman to exist in all of my time - my 89-year lifetime - in every galaxy. You're the best boss ever, and you can tell Nick that,” Natasha whispers conspiratorially, confident that the man won’t kick her off the heli. (And if he does, _big deal_ , she’ll survive.)

“No, YOU’RE my best friend in the whole world!” Maria cackles, barely finishing her declaration.

There’s giggling. Weird.

“<<You’ll be mine someday>>,” Natasha says solemnly. At least as earnest as she can sound while hiccupping. “Someday preferably soon,” the redhead says through her lashes, going for seductive, but the glazed eyes remind Maria that she’s just being silly.

Natasha’s… _drunk?_ Nuh-uh. Not possible.

Skye remains unconvinced and reports what she stumbles upon right away and now she and her bet-mates are huddled behind a wall, looking into the common room where the two are being more than a little strange.

"I'm in looove!" is shrieked, and the night does an epic face-plant from there, never to recover again.

* * *

“Hill, wait up.” Natasha takes her time catching up to the other woman. She wasn't looking forward to discussing the night before.

Maria tenses at the voice, but turns around regardless. “Nat. What’s going on?”

She shifts, steering them to hide around a quiet hallway, but also avoiding Maria’s sudden scrutiny.

(Turns out, they saved the more romantic languages for the more painful words they have to confront each other with.)

“I think that I’m maybe, potentially, a tiny bit—“

“You are _pequeña_ ,” Maria tries to go for a joke.

“ _Chiuderlo_ , let me finish.”

Cautiously, she cups the brunette’s face, much like what was done to her all those months ago.

“<<I care about you. I miss you when you’re not around to talk shit with. I—I guess I like you. I do. I like you, a lot.>>”

__

She stammers, and is cut off by Maria’s chuckle and, well, this stings. _That_ is the last reaction you want to get after saying those words, the kindest ones that have been expressed between them for months.

“Fuck. <<I can’t believe you>>” and turns, ready to leave.

__

“Natasha! Hold on, where are you going?” grasping her by the shoulder.

“You just laughed,” she frowns.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the soft motions of her thumb soothing. “It wasn’t because of you or what you said. It’s you defaulting into another language, as is tradition now. Apparently we process our emotions better not in English” Maria beams. “<<I’ve fallen for you, too, fool. _Hard._ >>”

She fidgets helplessly. She was in the middle of a walk out, and now that the situation has changed, she doesn’t know what to do that’s not a dramatic exit.

Maria senses her hesitation. _Of course she does. She’s gotten so good at reading her._ She takes the lead then.

“Come on,” reaching for her hand, clasping it tightly within hers. “This calls for a little wining and dining. Who knows, I might even put out on the first date,” the last statement sounding anything but casual.

* * *

It was quiet both around HQ and the tower for a while so the others assumed that the two have grown tired of their little game. Apparently it’s a bit alarming for the AI when there is colourful language coming from the Russian’s mouth yet again after a bit of a break.

Tony hurries to check up on Maria. “You okay? JARVIS sent me a security alert. I quote ‘Ms. Romanoff is currently being hurtful in Croatian.’”

“Oh, that,” trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“ _’Oh?’_ Ever so eloquent, Commander. That supposed to mean anything?” crossing his arms, going for intimidating. Now, he’s curious.

“It’s nothing. We’re fine,” as she breaks into a goofy smile. She waves her hand in dismissal, “psh. You worry too much, Stark.”

“You’re creeping me out, those aren’t words you’d normally say to me” Tony warns, stepping into a defensive stance. He was never fast enough in the past after seeing any semblance of a grin on Maria’s face.

“Yeah” a contented sigh, and a beat. “I think she just proposed? I have to look up what she said. She was a nervous wreck and resorted to being nasty. You know how she gets when she's trying to be cute and sincere-"

"I really don't. She only has one genuine mood around me: murderous," he counters, sulking that little bit.

A thoughtful hum. "I get that. Anyway, I thought JARVIS would have translated it, but I guess he filters and watches out for the filthy, err, the bad stuff.”

“Whoa, whoa. Dirty stuff? Within a marriage proposal?? What on Midgard… I won’t ask how those two even mix up. Just know that you two are weird as hell. Congratulations are in order, you belong together.”

“Yes, we do,” she smirks. “Try not to be jealous, Stark.”

“Not in this lifetime,” he scoffs, but is secretly happy for his teammates.

* * *

“Look at them gazing adoringly at each other,” Jemma squeals, giddy for the agents. “We thought one of them was gonna get killed.”

“It’s still on the table. Death: by too much sex. You ever pass by their floor or Hill’s office? Soundproofing, my ass. We need to up the budget on that investment,” Skye faux-shudders. She’s thrilled for them, too. Mostly excited at the prospect of the flirting being toned down.

“Or too much eye sex in public, and I might commit a double homicide if they don’t stop. So someone might still die,” May deadpans.

“I haven’t seen this much love in a room since Narcissus discovered himself! What a wondrous time,” Thor exclaims from somewhere. His voice booming too loud to identify if he’s even on the same floor.

“Shush. They’re so cute—oh, okay. Let’s get out of here, people. They’re not stopping,” Coulson urges, hurriedly grabbing snacks and drinks before they become casualty.

Across the room, the honeymoon stage isn’t ending anytime soon.


End file.
